


Dream Within a Dream

by that_runneth



Category: Tron (1982), Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2012-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_runneth/pseuds/that_runneth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Christmas Giveaway fic for Eaion, who asked for a fluffy story with Clu1. So here is an AU, where a certain death does not happen, Flynn does not get digitized and sent to the games, but the events of the original movie happen anyway. Or almost :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream Within a Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eaion](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Eaion).



I.

 

  “You’re in trouble, program,” said the frightening voice. “Make it easy on yourself, program. Who’s your User?”

 

  It took him a moment to collect himself after the excruciating pain had waved through his body. There would be more of that, he knew that well – but the words of defiance were on his lips already.

 

  “Forget it, Mr. High ‘n’ Mighty Master Control!” he exclaimed. “You’re not making me talk!”

 

  A single teardrop rolled down on his face. _The last thing_ , he thought…

 

  “Suit yourself,” the cruel voice advised. It sounded somewhat content; even delightful despite of the refusal. The panel behind him began to glow again and the unbearable pain shot through him once more. His own tormented screams were the last thing he heard before he lost his consciousness.

 

 

II.

 

  Lora threw the pillow at Flynn and the cushion hit his face lightly. He made a gesture of pretended indignation; but she was just looking at him with those piercing blue eyes.

 

  “I have been doing a little hacking there as a matter of fact…” he admitted.

 

  “You did break in!” said Alan.

 

  “Tried to”, Flynn replied and picked up a handheld video game. “Can’t quite make the connection with that sucker, though. Now if I had a direct terminal…”

 

  Alan stared at him; he did not appreciate the hint.

 

  “Flynn, are you embezzling?” he asked. These two were not easy on him, Flynn thought – not at the slightest.

 

  “Embezzling is such an ugly word Mr. Bradley,” Flynn replied, barely glancing up from the video game. “No, actually I’m trying to get some solid evidence together.”

 

  “I don’t get it,” said Alan. Flynn threw the video game down and sighed.

 

  “Okay,” he said. “Sherman, set the Wayback Machine for three years ago. Kevin Flynn, one of ENCOM’s brightest young software engineers…”

 

  He smiled at them; Alan was shaking his head and Lora appeared to be unimpressed as well.

 

  “He’s so bright as a matter of fact, that he starts going in there at night, and sets up his own private memory file and begins writing a program for a videogame he’s inventing, called… Space Paranoids.”

 

  Alan Bradley looked at him with disbelief.

 

  “You invented Space Paranoids?” he asked.

 

  “Paranoids, Matrix Blaster, Vice Squad, a whole slew of them. I was this close to starting my own little enterprise, man,” he gestured. “But enter another software engineer. Not so young, not so bright, but very very sneaky. Ed Dillinger. So one night, our boy Flynn, he goes to his terminal, tries to read up his file. I get nothing on there, it's a big blank. Okay, now we take you three months later. Dillinger presents ENCOM with five video games, that's he’s invented. The slime didn't even change the names, man! He gets a big, fat promotion. And thus begins his meteoric rise to… what is he now? Executive VP?”

 

  “Senior exec,” said Lora.

 

  “Senior exec?” he asked back. She nodded emphatically. He jumped, turned on the couch and lifted the shade, pointing at the crowd downstairs.

 

  “Meanwhile, the kids are putting eight million quarters a week into Paranoids machines. I don't see a dime except what I squeeze out of here.”

 

  “I still don’t understand,” said Alan, “why you wanna break into the system.”

 

  Flynn burst.

 

  “Because, man, somewhere in one of these memories is the evidence. If I got in far enough, I can reconstruct it. My password, Dillinger’s instructions to divert the data, the whole…”

 

  “It’s too late for that,” Lora interrupted. “Dillinger’s cut off everybody with Group Seven access.”

 

  “Wait, wait,” Flynn said. “What are you saying?”

 

  “The guy knows what you are up to,” Lora explained.

 

  “You’re kidding me,” he replied, stunned. He laughed bitterly. “Well, now there is nothing to stop him. Now it is just Dillinger and the MCP, running things from on high, man.”

 

  “Not if my Tron program was running,” said Alan. Until then he was listening and quietly considering. “That’d shut the system down. You know, if your file’s in there…”

 

  “Wait a minute,” said Flynn, “If we can get in there, I can forge us a Group Six access.”

 

  The two men were staring at one another. Alan began to smile. 

  “Well,” said Lora, and pulled out the keys of the van from her pocket. “Shall we dance?”

 

 

III.

 

  The rest of the programs were standing reverently as the commander made his way to the podium; only when he got there, they took seat. Bright energy lines manifested around the stand and a giant face appeared before it. It was a dreadful view: its superiority and cruelty was palpable even before its terrifying voice filled the space.

 

  “I’ve got a little challenge for you, Sark,” the giant said. The commander smiled: above all, he was the one to receive orders from the MCP. “A new recruit. He’s a tough case, but I want him treated in the usual manner. Train him for the games, let him hope for a while, and blow him away.”

 

  Sark’s smile widened.

 

  “You’ve got it,” he replied. “I’ve been hoping you’d send me somebody with a little bit of guts. What kind of program is he?”

 

  “A spy: his User sent him after me from the other world. Somebody pushes me, I push back. So I brought his program down here.”

 

  The commander nodded, content.

 

  “Get this clown trained,” the MCP continued. “I want him in the games until he dies playing.”

 

  “Acknowledged, Master Control.”

 

  “End of line,” the giant lips said, and the dark face disappeared.

 

 

IV.

 

  “Like the man says,” he said and sat down, “no problems, only solutions.”

 

  “Okay,” said Lora nervously, “remember, this laser is my life’s work. Don’t spill anything. Huh?”

 

  Flynn showed her his best, reassuring face. She did not seem to be convinced.

 

  “Have fun, sweetheart,” she said as she was walking away, leaving him alone with the terminal. He was confident: they had broken in the ENCOM building and had passed a security guard – his friends had done their part, now it was his turn. And he was going to accomplish, he was going to retrieve the missing data. He began to type.

 

  REQUEST: ACCESS CODE 6

                      PASSWORD SERIES PS 17

                      REINDEER FLOTILLA

 

  After a few seconds a short message popped up, the same text which had been there where he had connected to the system last time.

 

  ILLEGAL CODE…

  CLU PROGRAM DETACHED FROM SYSTEM

 

  “Yes,” Flynn mumbled moodily. He still felt sour about losing his best program. Automatically he reached out to try and clear the screen; much to his surprise this time he was able to dismiss the message and lines of codes appeared. After short browsing he found his lost program in a quarantined file folder, inside of the ENCOM system, which was monitored by the MCP now.

 

  “There you go,” he whispered absently. “I thought you were gone.”

 

  He was working on the console, excited; he tried to establish a connection with his program. For long minutes there was no answer – then the first signal arrived.

 

  “Yes!” he exclaimed. He looked at the codes on the screen again and noticed another familiar program in the quarantine: Alan Bradley’s Tron program. Flynn recalled the other software engineer’s words.

 

_“Not if my Tron program was running. That’d shut the system down.”_

 

  Kevin Flynn bent over the keyboard and was working in deep concentration.

 

 

V.

 

  Clu woke up in a dark, tiny cell. The walls and the ceiling were transparent: despite of the confinement he was not allowed to have even a moment of privacy. He had been kept there since his capture: after the interrogation he had been surprised to come to his senses at all – just to be informed right after that his life had been spared merely so his struggle would be further entertaining his enemies. Following the short and incomplete training there would be the games; perilous for any program – he only managed to survive due to his resourcefulness and speed he had been given by his User. His User – Clu had not felt his presence since he had been caught. Flynn must have thought that he had been lost; and Clu did feel lost.

 

  He sat up. Next to his cell there was another program’s small, locked room. It was Ram, the only program here that would talk to him. They had all been brought here against their will and had been condemned to death - that created some sense of camaraderie between the programs. He was excluded from that: his bright yellow circuitry revealed him as a hacker program and thus met the intense dislike of the denizens of the system. User-believer or not, nobody liked thieves.

 

  Ram was the only exception, this talkative and friendly program, who was never supposed to end up here. Clu did not even turn yet, but he knew that Ram would be watching him rising, eager to continue the conversation. Before he could have moved he felt something: his User’s presence, for the first time since his capture.

 

  “Oh my,” he whispered. He had not been forgotten nor lost: his User was out there again,

sending new orders and information to him. Clu was sitting there, bent ahead to hide his facial expression while he was analyzing the new data. Soon after he emerged with newly found determination.

 

  “Hey, Ram,” he said. The program in the next cell looked at him. “What were you… you know, before…?”

 

  Ram smiled.

 

  “I was an actuarial program,” he replied. “Worked for a big insurance company. It really gives you a great feeling helping folks plan for their future needs. Of course, if you take the payments as an annuity over the years, the cost is really quite minimal. How about yourself?”

 

  Clu, who was keep on nodding politely while Ram was speaking, froze. It was unfortunate enough that his appearance revealed his directions; he did not intend to talk about the instructions that he had just gotten. Not yet.

 

  “I don’t remember too much,” he replied. Ram was sympathetic.

 

  “Sure, a little disorientation. That’s normal in transport, it’ll come back to you,” he said.

 

  “Yes,” said Clu. Now came the harder part: Clu knew what kind of program was locked up on the other end of Ram’s cell, when they were not in the games – and he was actually grateful for the distance. It was one of his original directives to avoid security programs. Clu found it rather unfortunate that Flynn wanted him to find this Tron and get him cooperate.

 

  Before he could have spoken, the power lines which kept their cells locked, dissolved. A guard that was standing on the top of the cells, knocked the transparent ceiling with his staff. Clu and Ram stepped out of their prison and they were escorted to a large hall at the end of the corridor.

 

  “This is the holding are for the lightcycles,” one of the guards announced. One conscript was waiting there already and Ram exclaimed when he recognized him.

 

  “Hey, Tron! You made it!”

 

  The security program looked at them; his eyes flashed immediately when he spotted Clu. Had there been no guards around them, Clu would have turned on his heels and would have run. Instead of that he was pushed toward Tron. Clu was sure that he was seeing the security program reaching for his disc and was convinced that his life would end now.

 

  “Alan!” he said loudly. Tron’s glare was just as intent now, but was less hostile at least.

 

  “Where did you hear that name?” he demanded. Three other programs walked in the hall: they wore the red colors of the MCP’s warriors.

 

  “The name of my User,” Tron insisted. “Where did you hear it?”

 

  The Reds lined up, facing them. Clu took his place at the wall. He was relieved that his tactics had worked: he was still alive.

 

  “I’m a program from a User that knows Alan,” he said.

 

  “He was disoriented in transport, Tron,” said Ram.

 

  “Yeah,” Clu replied. It would have been impossible to start explain everything: and finding alternate routes and ways was in his core anyway. “But I’m remembering all kinds of stuff. Like, my User wants me to go after the MCP.”

 

  “My User wants that too!” declared Tron.

 

  “I know,” Clu replied. They looked at each other – the hostility disappeared from the security program’s face by now; Clu knew that he was being considered as a possible ally.

 

  They were transported to the Game Grid in a blink of an eye. The command ship was

hovering above the area and Recognizers were making circles all over the place.

 

  Glowing handlebars emerged in front of them: Clu grabbed his own and felt it activating. The shell of the lightcycle encased his form: next to him Ram’s and Tron’s bikes manifested similarly. At the other end of the arena the vehicles of the Reds started to roll toward them.

 

  And the chase began.

 

 

VI.

 

  Turns, speed, turns again – the Game Grid soon became a labyrinth of energy walls and they had to maneuver carefully. Even though it could have been the end at any corner, Clu enjoyed the race; it was way quicker than driving a tank. At the end Tron managed to drive one of the Reds to the wall: a gaping hole appeared where the bike exploded. Another opponent of theirs started to chase Clu in the narrow corridor between the energy lanes; with a brave move he cut the Red’s way off. His opponent perished in the crash and Clu headed straight toward the gap on the wall now.

 

  “I’m getting out of here right now,” he spoke into his communicator. “You guys are invited.”

 

  He was not sure if Tron and Ram would follow him: they were regular programs with built-in inhibitions which were unknown for Clu; he could not tell if those two would see the gap on the wall as a way out at all. But then he spotted the two bikes that were following him.

 

  “Greetings, programs!” he yelled cheerfully. A loud voice filled the space and demanded them to return as they sped their way out of the game complex. First Recognizers came and when they were left behind in the tight tunnels, tanks followed. They came dangerously close and their missiles barely missed the escaping bikes. Eventually they got away on the narrow slopes of the outer regions.

 

  Once they left their pursuers behind, they dismounted their bikes. They climbed up onto an angular height to take a look around and define their location. Beyond the deserted outlands there were the lights of a city and the monumental shape of an Input/Output tower.

 

  “Well, do we pay a visit to the old Master Control, huh?” asked Clu. He felt much better now, outside of their prison, looking ahead of the new adventure. Ram glared at him, stunned.

 

  “What?” he asked. “Just the three of us…”

 

  He smiled: he was hoping that Clu had been only kidding earlier. Next to them Tron was looking at the wide shape of the I/O tower with a determined expression.

 

  “Well, you know anybody’s got an army for rent, that’s fine,’ replied Clu. “But my User told me to take that sucker out.”

 

  “We can’t get to the MCP without the help of my User,” said Tron. ‘I have to get to that Input/Output tower, communicate with him.”

 

  He jumped and slid down on the slope behind them. Clu and Ram turned.

 

  “Well good, check in with Alan,” said Clu. “Maybe he knows what’s…”

 

  Tron did not listen to him, he was going toward the end of the cave behind them.

 

  “What’s that?” asked Clu. Ram, who was silently considering their chances until then, brightened.

 

  “That is just what I need right now,” he said. There was a pool in the back, full of glowing, liquid energy: a rare find these days. They ran there, lay down on the bank and drank. Almost immediately they felt stronger and optimistic: their circuits were glowing with a newly found light.

 

  “Ah, nice,” said Tron and rolled on his back. “You forget how good the power feels until you get to a pure source.”

 

  They laughed.

 

  “My friends,” said Ram, “my fellow conscripts, we have scored. I feel so much better.”

 

  They drank and rest some more. Time passed quickly; Clu almost felt sorry for that they had to leave soon. But he had the orders from Flynn and the promise of the adventure was also calling him.

 

  Tron sat up suddenly.

 

  “I can feel it,” he said.

 

  “Feel what?” asked Clu. “You okay?”

 

  Tron smiled absently.

 

  “Alan-One,” he whispered and jumped on his feet. “Let’s move on!”

 

 

VII.

 

  They almost made it: they almost got through the bridge above a deep abyss. The missile from a tank hit the stone and the explosion shook the ground. Clu and Ram were thrown off from their vehicles. Their bikes dissolved and they landed amongst large chunks of debris. The bridge got destroyed: only Tron’s bike reached the other end.

 

  After a few moments Clu emerged slowly. He was dizzy and in pain, yet there was no sign of any major injury. Next to him Ram was lying motionlessly.

 

  “Ram!” he called his name. “Ram!”

 

  Clu stood up and hurried there; he lifted the body of his unconscious friend.

 

  “We’ve gotta get out of here,” he said. The tanks approached: they were looking for signs of life. Clu dragged Ram into a small tear on the wall: the hole was barely large enough to hide them. The tanks were circling for a short while and they left: Clu knew that they would continue pursuing Tron now.

 

  When the roar of the tanks finally ceased, he peeked out of the fissure. Certain, that they were safe now, he carried Ram out and headed back to the fountain when they had had their rest before. After long, exhausting walk, during which Clu never stopped to watch the digital sky and perking up his ears for unusual noises, they arrived. He put down Ram close to the bank and went to bring him from the ever-glowing liquid.

 

  Ram’s eyes were open when he got back to him and he welcomed the drink. Clu was hopeful that they could get ready soon and follow Tron – but his hopes were in vain. Ram had no visible injuries and he did not complain; yet he was unable to get on is bike.

 

  “You will get better, buddy,” said Clu. He tried to hide his worries: his directions urged him to go after Tron; at the same time there was Ram, who apparently needed long time to recover.

 

  “Go,” said Ram. “Help Tron.”

 

  “What?” asked Clu. ‘What about you? This place is not safe.”

 

  “They already checked here, they won’t come back. And they are after Tron now. Go, help him!”

 

  Ram saw that he was still considering.

 

  “I’ll find you later,” he said; then he turned bitter. “I’ll be safer here than you two would be in the city.”

 

  Clu nodded; he still felt for his friend, but Ram was right and it was the logical thing to do. He searched around the cave for any possible threat and made sure that Ram was strong enough to collect energy for himself – once done with those duties he could not delay his departure anymore. They shook hands and Clu got on his bike.

 

 

VIII.

   

  Everything was upside down in the city by the time Clu arrived: the searchlights of Recognizers were scanning the ground and troops were running around. Seeing all the mess Clu assumed that Tron had made it to the settlement. Clu had been in a bad mood during the lonely ride – now he began to cheer up and he could not wait to find Tron and raise some hell together.

 

  The guards must have gotten new information, because all of a sudden they began to run toward the same direction. Clu followed them: in the tumult nobody cared for him. They ended up outside of an enormous gate – a logic probe was breaking it down, when the backup forces arrived. There was a huge sanctuary inside: the leader of the Red forces walked there, to the keeper of the communication tower.

 

  Staying in the background Clu waited: soon after most of the guards were sent for a chase and he joined them immediately. They were in such rush, so much fear about missing the prey and coming back to their commander with empty hands that they did not even care about Clu. They were marching through long halls and corridors: they led to a hangar, where a small sailer was about to depart. The guards ran onboard and Clu with them. Somebody began to throw them off right away – and Clu spotted Tron just for a brief moment, before the security program sent him down flying from the sailer. Clu grabbed the edge of the deck. The sound of the fight ceased soon and the aircraft departed, leaving the hangar. Down on the ground a large group of Red guards were watching them.

 

  After making sure that nobody had been left on the sailer, Tron was walking back to the control panel. He noticed the climbing program and knelt down, his fists raised.

 

  “Hey, it’s me, Clu!”

 

  “Clu!” said Tron happily and leaned ahead.

 

  “Yeah, greetings program,” Clu replied. He was watching the lands down under.

 

  “Clu, you’re alive!”

 

  “Barely… Yeah, I…” he could not continue, his hands slid down from the deck and he was about to make a deadly fall from the simulation. Tron grabbed his left hand and pulled him back, without any visible effort. It took a moment for Clu to collect himself: he had been sure that he would end up landing on the Outlands.

 

  “Where is Ram?” asked Tron.

 

  “Wounded, but fine. I had to leave him behind.”

 

  Tron nodded; he seemed to be unhappy.

 

  “Come on,” he said then. There was a third program on the sailer, at the control panel of the aircraft. She was a fragile, female program; she sighed in relief when Tron returned to her. They hugged and Clu was watching them, dumbfounded. It had to do something with the information that Flynn had uploaded for him: when he had informed Clu about those other Users out there. It was a similar sort of recognition like when he had first seen Tron – and it was him too. He stepped closer.

 

  “Yori, this is Clu,” said Tron, smiling, and he put his hand on Clu’s shoulder. “The one who busted me out.”

 

  “Well, then I owe him some thanks,” she said. Clu took one more step ahead: she retracted and Tron thrust himself forward, between them. Clu saw that they were both looked at him with troubled expression on their faces.

 

  “No, it’s no big deal,” mumbled Clu. “My User wrote the program for the lightcycle routine.”

 

  “He wrote that program?” asked Tron incredulously. “Everything Users do is according to a plan!”

 

  Clu laughed.

 

  “You wish,” he said. “Look, we know how it is. You just keep doing what it looks like you’re supposed to be doing, no matter how crazy it seems.”

 

  “Well, that’s the way it is for programs, yes, but…” said Tron.

 

  “Do you think it is different for Users?” asked Clu. The other two programs looked at him, shocked by the profanity. Clu chuckled.

 

  “So,” he said. “Nice looking ship you got here.”

 

 

IX.

 

  They crossed the space between a few tall buildings: other than those everything was empty and the lands were deserted. Sitting on the deck, Tron told Clu about their visit to the I/O tower; about his User’s orders to get to the MCP and destroy it. Clu was listening to him; in the meantime he watched Yori, who was operating the aircraft from behind the control panel. Tron noticed his reactions and kept an eye on him; still, he was pondering. Were these two a couple? Would he have a chance, to talk to her at least? This Tron program seemed to be very trustworthy – on the other hand, he, Clu wore the yellow color of hacker programs; an infamously unreliable kind of applications. It made it hard to make friends – and still, he was sitting here with these two and at the end of this adventure they would return for Ram. Because Clu was certain about the success of their mission.

 

  Tron stood up and walked toward the stem of the ship. Clu rose as well; would this be his only chance to talk to Yori? Just as he turned at her, Tron shouted.

 

  “Sark!”

 

  The large command ship emerged suddenly from a canyon and cut off their way. The two ships collided violently and the tiny sailer broke in two. The front part, along with Tron, disappeared: all Clu and Yori could do was to hang on for their lives. Soon after the remains of the badly damaged sailer were hauled inside of the command ship.

 

  Yori and Clu were pushed in a cell which already had an inmate: an old, worn-out looking program. Yori ran to him.

 

  “Dumont!” she exclaimed. The old program embraced her.

 

  “Yori!” he said. “Tron?”

 

  She looked in his eyes.

 

  “Tron is dead,” she said. Crushed, they stood. A sharp, cheerful yell broke the silence.

 

  “So, we have erased that program…” said Sark as he walked in. He stopped when he spotted Clu. “No. You were derezzed, I saw you.”

 

  “Not me, Sark.”

 

  “There is nothing special about you, you’re just an ordinary program,” said Sark, full of spite.

 

  “So are you. One, that should have been erased.” Clu found it actually entertaining, that he could speak his mind: nothing would have changed the fact of his upcoming deresulotion.

 

  “You’re nothing!” burst out Sark. Clu grinned at him; that seemed to further annoy the commander. He pointed at Dumont. “Take that program to the holding pit!”

 

  A guard approached, holding his staff threateningly. Yori tried to intervene as Dumont was escorted out; she ended up thrown on the floor, so as Clu who ran to protect her.

 

  “I’m taking our friend here and some other religious fanatics to Master Control,” Sark informed Yori and Clu. “When I disembark, this ship and everything that remains on board, will automatically derezz.”

 

  He smiled cruelly.

 

  “This means you,” he finished. He turned and exited the room.

 

 

X.

 

  Yori slipped down onto the floor: she was quiet and beaten. Clu walked to the closed door quickly: logically there was no way out of here, but it would have not been him if he did not try anyway.

 

  “These walls,” he said, “Yori! It’s happening!”

 

  The walls were losing energy and Clu was now hopeful: should the process happen slowly, they could be able to leave the cell and get away.

 

  “Yori!” he yelled.

 

  “Leave me alone,” she said without looking at him. “We’ve failed.”

 

  The wall began to turn transparent under Clu’s fingers. He jumped to Yori and took her hands.

 

  “We’re only gonna fail if we give up,” he said. He took a quick look around: the place was gradually derezzing and so would they be, had they not acted promptly. “Come on!”

 

  They ran through the disappearing wall: outside of the cell the corridor was fading too. The floor was becoming unstable: a missed step would have been enough for them to fall, through the derezzing ship, toward the bottomless abyss. To the control deck they ran: from there they could see how close they were to the fortress of the MCP now. The docking module had landed next to it: they could not see its passengers anymore.

 

  “Do something with these controls!” said Clu, gesturing at the large panels. Yori, who seemed to be herself again after their escape from the cell, stepped there quickly.

 

  “I’m on it,” she said. Under her expert touch the panels lit up.

 

  “The MCP,” said Clu, looking at the fortress. “The heart of the whole system.”

 

  Behind him Yori took control over the ship: the deresolution of the aircraft also stopped.

 

   As they got closer they saw something outside of the stronghold: two warriors amidst a deadly duel: much to their delight they recognized one of them as Tron. After delivering the fatal blow, Tron hurried inside of the fortress to complete his mission. Outside on the field Sark’s cadaver began to glow: instead of derezzing it became bigger and bigger. Finally it emerged and headed at the MCP’s stronghold.

 

  Clu was thinking: what were they supposed to do? How to help? He regretted not having a connection to his User. And then, he knew: he knew what to do. It was an insane plan: pretentious and very dangerous – he could not pass it.

 

  “I got it,” he said to himself. He turned to Yori. “Steer us over by the beam! Right next to it.”

 

  “What good could that do?” asked Yori.

 

  “I’m gonna jump. It’s the only way to help Tron.”

 

  Yori ran to him, with real concern on her face.

 

  “Don’t, you’d be derezzed!” she said. Clu looked at her. For a moment he felt regret for not having it: for not being the faithful one, the victorious that would get the glory – looking at her he knew that he could do it. But then: the adventure! Down there the beam was glowing; inviting.

 

  “Don’t worry,” he said. He turned and jumped, down into the shining core, while the waves of energy surrounded him. It was odd, the light and the heat, still, once there he activated and did what he did the best: began to collect all the data, cause chaos and distraction – and he was hoping dearly that his plan would work.

 

 

XI.

 

  YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE COME BACK FLYNN

 

  “Hey, hey,” Flynn said. “It’s the big Master Control Program everybody’s been talking about.”

 

  He was cheerful: just seconds after that he had activated his Clu program, the MCP appeared to have sensed his presence. Flynn was typing.

 

  THAT ISN’T GOING TO DO ANY GOOD, FLYNN. I’M AFRAID YOU… STOP…PLEASE…

 

  Flynn was surprised: it sounded like the MCP was not addressing him anymore.

 

  “How are you going to run the universe if you can't answer a few unsolvable problems? Come on, big fella, let's see what you got,” he said.

 

  I’D LIKE TO GO AGAINST YOU AND SEE WHAT YOU’RE MADE OF.

 

  He heard a soft noise from behind, but he did not turn. Suddenly, without warning the MCP went silent and the printer next to Flynn’s terminal began buzzing.

 

  ENCOM MX 16-923 USER # 0176825 06:00

  VIDEO GAME PROGRAM: SPACE PARANOIDS

  ANNEXED 9/22 BY E. DILLINGER

  ORIGINAL PROGRAM WRITTEN BY K. FLYNN

  THIS INFORMATION PRIORITY ONE 

  END OF LINE

  He pulled out the paper from the printer with shaking hands. Had it happened already? He had barely entered a few lines of instructions.

 

  “Priority one!” he said and laughed. “Aauhh!”

 

  He jumped to his feet. For a second he stopped: had the laser behind his back moved since he had arrived? It was impossible: there was nobody to control or readjust the device. He shrugged and happily, he ran.

 

 

XII.

 

  Clu was floating. He could not be sure about his location: after the fall of the MCP he had been ejected and was about to go offline now. Somehow he still knew that the plan worked and the mission had been accomplished. Out there his friends would be celebrating now: soon he would join them in a free system. He was looking for the new thrill, the coming escapades.

 

  It was going to be quite a ride.


End file.
